


Enraptured

by Amsare



Category: BioShock, Fable (Video Games), Fable 3 (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, M/M, No Angst, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 07:13:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5530598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amsare/pseuds/Amsare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reaver is one of the most powerful man in Rapture, living his hedonistic life with no limits with his loyal butler Barry Hatch who is always where his Master wants him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enraptured

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyDeXter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDeXter/gifts).



> Written as a Christmas gift for my lovely sister, an original fan fiction based on both _Bioshock_ and _Fable III_. I like the idea of Reaver living in Rapture as a wealthy powerful eccentric man. 
> 
> English is not my first language so I'm sorry for any mistakes - I tried to do my best.
> 
> And Merry Christmas, dear readers!

“Another drink, Sir?”  
   
“Yes, please,” Reaver answers with a blissful smile on his face; the waiter disappears in front of his eyes, popping of behind the bar on the other side of the room.  
   
Reaver's not impressed as he's used to this kind of _magic_ happening every day in Rapture; obviously it's not magic but the miracle of Science, the miracle of ADAM. The waiter is using _Teleport_ for his job, a Plasmid becoming hard to find in the market. Actually, there are rumors saying that it will not be produced anymore...  
   
“It's a lovely evening, isn't it, Barry?” Reaver sighs, lining back on the comfortable seat; his loyal butler Barry Hatch looks at him in awe as he always does.  
   
_So loyal._  
   
“Yes indeed, Master Reaver,” Barry answers, his slight speech impediment making Reaver amused – he loves it if he has to be sincere. Not to mention his red hair and heterochromia: Barry is worth of this special place hidden in the Atlantic Ocean.  
   
Reaver _himself_ decided to bring him in Rapture, he needed his butler after all.  
   
“Your Martini, Sir,” the waiter is once again in front of him with his expensive drink leaving a red fog behind; well, this is what happens when you use _Teleport_.  
   
“Thank you,” Reaver takes the glass in his hand, bringing it to his lips: the fizzy drink tastes divine.  
   
“My dear guests!” The man on the stage is gloating, “welcome to my party! I hope you're enjoying yourselves as I am!”  
   
Reaver rolls his eyes as he hears the artist Sander Cohen speaking at the microphone: he's wearing a nice suit and a rabbit mask just like the majority of the guests in his club.  
   
“Something wrong, Master?” Barry has noticed his expression, always ready to please him.  
   
“Oh no my dear Barry, you know how much I appreciate our friend Sander Cohen,” he says with a devilish smile on his lips, “he's an eccentric individual such as me.”  
   
“In my humble opinion, you're much better than that man,” Barry can't hold back that comment as Sander Cohen is now singing one of his last greatest hits, “and the rabbit mask suits you best.”  
   
Reaver looks at him, putting down his empty glass and grabbing his collar; their faces are close now, just where Reaver wants Barry to be.  
   
“M-Master Reaver? Have I offended you?” Barry's worried as he doesn't understand what his Master wants to do to him, but Reaver kisses him chastly, wiping any doubts out of his mind.  
   
“ _Au contraire_ ,” he says, “you pleased me such as the good and loyal pet you are.”  
   
The music in the club is becoming louder, Cohen's singing is getting more desperate: after all it's a song about love, death and redemption in a total Cohen style. The man on the stage stops singing with a cry and brings his hands to his chest; suddenly all the lights go off, except for the dim reflection of the sea from the windows.  
   
There's silence in the room, audience mesmerised by the performance.  
   
Barry is surely right – _Reaver is no Cohen_ – but he should admit that the artist is quite talented.  
   
The lights turn on with a loud buzz: Reaver looks up to the ceiling and he's not surprised to see the young Kyle Fitzpatrick on a balcony; after all, there's no switcher in that club as all the lights are controlled by him.  
   
The crowd applauds enthusiasts.  
   
“It seems Fitzpatrick is becoming quite good at controlling _Electro Bolt,_ ” Reaver notices as he claps his hands.  
   
“Oh yes, Master,” Barry looks up, smiling, “I went to the exibition when he bought it. It was a present from Cohen, he said.”  
   
“Of course,” Reaver laughs, “how could he resist? Sander Cohen is an artist – he needs such eccentricities. Who knows, one day I'll send you buying some of this EVE, this new nectar of the gods, mmm? We could use it too.”  
   
There's a strange glimpse into Barry's eyes now: he's looking straight into Reaver's ones excited. “Yes, Master.”  
   
Reaver grins satisfied. “I don't want to be poisoned, though. We will try some Plasmids when I will be sure they are safe to be used.”  
   
There are so many strange stories about people becoming addicted to it; Reaver definitely doesn't want to become one of them, spending his days thinking about ADAM, EVE or Plasmids. How are they called?  
   
_Splicers?_  
   
Would it be wonderful to light a fire just with a snap of your fingers? To lift an object with the power of your mind? Oh, the things Reaver could do for the _special occasions..._  
   
“Thank you! Thank you!” Cohen is thanking them again as if he hasn't done it before.  
   
“I think we heard enough music of his for tonight,” Reaver comments, “I'll send him my regards as always.” Barry stands up, going towards the reception where they left their coats; he comes back ready to help his Master to wear his favorite white one.  
   
“Good boy,” Reaver purrs pleased as they are leaving the club and Barry shivers; when they reach the entrance there's one of Cohen's disciples, Silas Cobb, who makes a sort of reverence toward them.  
   
“Master Reaver, Barry Hatch! Are you leaving already?”  
   
“My servant and I are quite tired. We're retiring in our quarters,” Reaver says nonchalantly, walking stick clicking twice on the floor.  
   
“Thank you for coming, we hope to see you again,” Cobb says in a sly _fake_ voice.  
   
“Indeed,” Reaver greets him, giving him a long interested look: Cobb has become fitter from the last time they saw each other.  
   
_Maybe Cohen wouldn't mind if I'll invite one of his disciples to my room just for fun next time._  
   
“I'm always ready for a piano lesson with a fine _maestro_ ,” Reaver says while walking toward the Main High Street, making Silas Cobb laughs.  
   
The Street is not so crowdy – it's not very early in the evening after all – and it's quite pleasurable looking at the enormous glass windows as fishes of all kind swim in the Ocean unaware of the greatness of Rapture.  
   
“I'm a little jealous of this breathtaking view, my dear Barry,” Reaver sighs as a turtle passes in front of his eyes, “I wish I had the same one in my apartment.”  
   
The sudden question takes Barry unaware as he doesn't know what to say: he limits to nod respectively to his Master.  
   
“Oh, well, money can't buy everything... Shall we continue?” Reaver looks down the balcony, pointing at the bathysphere.  
   
He’s got plans in his mind.  
   
   
***  
   
   
They arrived at Mercury Suits in a blink of an eye: the dim light of the sea makes the walls shine bright. Reaver loves this part of Rapture, he loves how his name is well written in Gold over his room door; Barry opens it for him, letting him pass.  
   
“Thank you, my dear,” the lights switches on as Reaver enters his apartment – not everybody can have such luxury, “take me something to drink, Barry.”  
   
“Yes, Master.”  
   
Barry takes Reaver's coat and then he walks away while his Master sits down on the fancy red sofa; then he brings a bottle of the most fine wine they had, bringing two glasses within.  
   
“You are _fabulous_!” Reaver exclaims pleased, “I couldn't wish anything else, really.”  
   
The _soirée_ goes on and the bottle is now empty; Reaver looks at his loyal servant, the redness spreading over his face. They had drunk enough because Reaver himself is feeling a little tipsy.  
   
“Come here, Barry,” he orders with a smile on his face, Barry leaning on him, blue and brown eyes a little watering; their faces are so close, hot breaths against each other.  
   
“Do you love me, Barry?” Reaver murmurs excited, “do you love your Master?”  
   
Barry gulps, looking at him in awe, “ _yes_ ”, he says shaking, “yes, Master Reaver, I love you.”  
   
Reaver smirks at hearing that – he never gets bored of it – and he kisses him hungrily wanting, teeth clashing. Barry moans, he can't resist him, letting his Master take what he wants.  
   
_Yes._  
   
“Lie down, pet,” Reaver purrs, making Barry lie down the sofa; they could have gone in the bedroom but it's too late now.  
   
The sofa will be perfect for their intercourse.  
   
It's quite easy for Reaver to strip him down from his clothes, taking off his waistcoat and trousers at the same time. They're still in their underwear though as Reaver wants to entertain himself for a little.  
   
_Not so soon, not so soon._  
   
“M-Master...” Barry brings his hands up as his Master goes down, leaving a lustful trail of kisses on his chest, belly and groin.  
   
Reaver looks up from where he is, dark mischievous eyes in Barry's particular ones.  
   
_Perfection._  
   
“Yes, Barry, what is it?” he murmurs with a smirk on his face; he licks a long stripe of salty skin just above the waistband, making him whimper.  
   
“Oh, _please..._ ” Barry tilts carefully his hips towards his Master, muscles tense.  
   
“Tell me _exactly_ what you want and your Master will please you, ” _which seems to be an exciting paradox._  
   
“I-I need your mouth, Master Reaver, I need your mouth on me,” Barry stutters embarrassed, closing his eyes.  
   
Reaver chuckles as he positions himself between Barry's legs, caressing his servant's hips; with a lascivious movement he strips Barry off his underwear, cock finally free. He didn't wait too much as he lows down on him, taking him into his hot mouth.  
   
“ _Oh!_ ” Barry can't hold himself, pushing into his Master's throat, moaning shamelessly; he doesn't seem to be nervous anymore.  
   
Reaver works his tongue around him, tasting his warmth, enjoying his taste; it's true that he has had many lovers in his life but in his opinion Barry is the only one who's so unique. He doesn't know why: sometimes he wonders if he has fallen in love with him…  
   
“M-Master, oh-”  
   
The sounds that Barry is making are exciting Reaver more than he expected; he has to stop himself if he wants the night to last.  
   
Barry whines as to protest but Reaver shushes him, "now, now, Barry, good things come to those who wait,” he says in false chiding tone.  
   
He slips off his undergarments as they were becoming rather annoying and then he reaches for the little cabinet next to the sofa; he opens the single drawer taking out a small glass bottle of lube.  
   
Barry is panting hard, eyes fixed on his Master; he looks down his groin, wanting.  
   
“Barry, you're a filthy little boy,” Reaver comments as he uncaps the bottle, coating two fingers wet of that liquid; his servant smirks weakly, too much aroused.  
   
“Open your legs,” Reaver commands, slapping his thigh, “let's stretch you up.”  
   
Barry hisses as Reaver enters him with two fingers, cold lube on hot skin, starting to stretch him.  
   
“It will not take us too long, uh?” Reaver laughs, twisting his wrist, “you're so eager to take me, aren't you?”  
   
“Y-yes, yes...” Barry babbles incoherently and Reaver stops, “Yes...?”  
   
“Yes Master Reaver!”  
   
Satisfied, Reaver curves his fingers, finding a particular _sweet_ spot that makes Barry cry for the pleasure, “Good boy,” he says as with his free hand he squeezes his cock base forbidding him to come.  
   
“I think you’re ready,” _well lubed and opened up for me._  
   
He's about to open the condom when Barry shakes his head, “There's no need,” he speaks, “I want to feel you inside me, Master.”  
   
Reaver stays still for a moment, a shiver of anticipation passing through his back, then he gets rid of the unused condom, “so you will.”  
   
Barry bends his legs toward his chest, giving Reaver more space to move: his Master coats his finger with some more lube, spreading it all over his length, glistening in the light – he can't hold back a moan at the heavenly vision.  
   
Reaver smirks at his reaction, reaching for him; he brings his cock toward Barry, starting to push slowly into him.  
   
“Relax, pet,” Barry is so tense, curves his back, “I said relax, you know it will get better soon,” Reaver speaks, trying to maintain a firm voice but it's not easy as he's being engulfed so sweetly by his servant.  
   
So Barry nods as he starts to relax his muscles, getting used to the feeling of being stretched.  
   
“It doesn't take you so much time anymore, mmm?” Reaver asks as he tries to move back, slowly; he grips Barry's tight hard, fingers on his skin, keeping him in place, “is my faithful servant ready?”  
   
“Yes Master, I am, please-”  
   
Reaver pushes inside his hot body with strong vigour, taking a fast rhytm soon; Barry tilts his head back, baring his throat and his Master bends over him to bite it possessively.  
   
_Yes, yes, yes._  
   
“You're perfect, Barry, _perfect_ ,” he murmurs against his servant's skin, keeping on moving his hips; he stops just a moment to take Barry legs and putting them over his shoulder, taking a strong rhythm again.  
   
“Harder, please Master...” Barry's eyes are watering, his face red, mad of pleasure.  
   
Reaver accomplishes, bringing one hand between them to take Barry's hard cock in his hand, pumping it at the same rhythm of his pace.  
   
He's nearly there, skin tensing under Reaver's touch, _he's nearly there_ , but he needs something more and...  
   
“Come,” that's the _order_ , that's his Master word which lets him come harder than ever; he wants to cry but Reaver's mouth is on his own muffling any sound, making him whimper. Thankfully, Reaver lets him breathe as he keeps on pushing, reaching his orgasm too: Barry is clenching around Reaver's so _perfectly_ he can't resist for too long – “ _Ah!_ ” – coming inside him.  
   
_Marking him as his and only his._  
   
Reaver collapses on Barry's body, not caring for the mess he's done: he's enjoying the afterglow and the warmth of their bodies.  
   
Life in Rapture is wonderful.  
   
Life in Rapture with Barry Hatch on his side is _perfect_.  
   
And Reaver wouldn’t change a thing.  
   
   
 


End file.
